In all the years that the Creeds had lived in our small town, they had always inspired a vague feeling of unease in me. It was not something I could ever fully explain. I could merely feel that there was something there, something wrong. Some awful danger lurking just out of sight, and which was growing.

The family consisted of Zebakiah Creed, his wife Victoria, and their four children - their sons Luthor, Victor and Saul, and their daughter Clara, with Luthor and Victor being the eldest. On the surface, there was little to mark them as particularly more sinister than the majority of other folk, though I was aware that the two eldest boys had violent tempers, which at times I suspected were shared with their father, judging from how his wife at times seemed ever so slightly fearful of him. But it was nothing definite, and for the most part, they were normal and peaceful. Victoria, of them all, was the sweetest soul, the least tainted by whatever subtle malady I sensed in the others.

Any fears I had, I always tried to pass off and ignore as superstitious foolishness with no hard basis. That was until it was noticed that neither Luthor nor Victor had attended school, and upon being questioned, Zebakiah and Victoria broke the news that both boys had vanished without a trace. As time went on, people began extensively searching for the missing children, though absolutely nothing could be found. The days dragged on with no sign of them.

Zebakiah and Victoria were hardly seeb outside their home, with Zebakiah explaining that he and his wife spent much time comforting one another and their remaining children in this distressing time. There were times, however, when, in passing their house, I would faintly hear their voices raised in argument, though regarding precisely what, I could not tell, and was bound by respect not to pry into their lives. It was soon observed that Saul and Clara seemed frightened of something, but of what they would say nothing. Several months after their brothers' disappearance, their parents sent them away to live with relatives, and following this, Zebakiah and Victoria became even more withdrawn and taciturn.

Time went on, life continued. It must have been little over a year since Luthor and Victor's unexplained disappearance when, walking down the road near to where the Creed home one evening, I heard Victoria screaming from inside the house. Having dashed over and hammered uselessly on the front door for some moments, I forced it open and charged inside, not knowing what I would find. Victoria's screaming had subsided now to agonized sobs, which I followed into the kitchen to find her on the floor, shaking uncontrollably, with her knees drawn up to her chest. And just a few feet away was a sight which filled me with sickness: The body of Zebakiah Creed, ripped open from groin to throat, his face frozen into a mask of utmost horror.

Sitting on the floor, all poor Victoria could do was keep whimpering "Victor...Victor..." Further horror awaited in the cellar: A chain affixed to a wall near a bowl of water and raw, half-devoured meat on a dish, and mannacled to the end of this chain was a human hand. It bore wicked talons like those of an animal, and my revulsion grew when i saw that it had been chewed off at the wrist. I returned to Victoria and gently tried to coax the truth out of her, though I already had the most hideous suspicions. Suspicions soon confirmed when she gasped of how, a year ago, Victor had torn his brother's throat out over a slice of pie. She and her husband had buried poor Luthor in the back yard, and Zebakiah had chained Victor up in the cellar, using pliers to pull out the fangs the boy constantly grew, hoping that by doing so his son would someday be cured of his demonic affliction. But tonight Victor had broken free to kill Zebakiah, and fled through the back door just before I entered.

I dared not leave Victoria alone, for fear that...he may return for her. With this in mind, I brought her with me into town and, having explained what I had found, arranged for her to be looked after by some kind souls. But with Victor - or rather, the thing he had become - still loose, it was felt no one was safe, and so armed groups were quickly put together and set out to find him. So it was that I found myself in one such group. With a few other men, I ventured out into the dark woods, with a rifle clutched in my trembling hands. I had but to glance briefly at those beside me to know they shared the horrible terror which stabbed at my soul.

How long we searched the twilight forest I cannot accurately tell. But at some point, the hounds we had with us of a sudden began to growl ferociously and, before we could stop them, broke free of us and dived with much howling and snarling into the shadowy, tangled undergrowth. In seconds there occured a tumultuous shaking of the bushes as some struggle ensued, and then the hairs on the backs of the necks of myself and my companions stood on end as we heard a savage snarling which did issue from the dogs. One hound suddenly burst forth with a terrified yelp and ran rapidly back the way we had come. Then a dark bulk was hurled from the bushes to crash into our midst...the second hound, ripped to death.

Our shock must have prevented us from reacting quick enough in the face of what happened next. A shadowy form, growling and with eyes burning an evil amber in the dark, leapt upon us and sent me flying to the earth with one blow. And then it roared, a sound like that of some nightmare fiend of ancient legend, and with the roar was mingled the sounds of wild gunshots, wood splintering, and the screaming of my fellow men, ending in hideous gurgles which died off to nothing. Lying there, terror overwhelmed me, and I flung my arms over my face and wailed like a child. Not daring to look, I heard him - no, not him, it - breathing heavily and eagerly. Then a chuckle, and a voice: "Just the beginnin', fella. Everyone better watch out..."

The sky was greying with pre-dawn light when the search party found me still huddled on the ground near the viciously mutilated bodies of the dog and my companions. Victor Creed had long since gone. He has not returned, but word has traveled of his further acts of horror. Whether anyone will ever put an end to this evil, I cannot say. The Creed house still stands, empty now, but feared more than ever. I think I may burn it down one day.